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“Please,” she breathes against my mouth, the single word filled with a hunger that matches my own.
I move faster, with more pressure, drawing out her pleasure as if I can capture this moment and lock it away. Her whole body tenses and I know she’s close.
I feel her shudder, the pulsing of her body telling me she’s done for as her arms cling to me and her knees weaken. I hold her close, slipping my hand out of her pants even though I want to strip her down and have my way with her again.
When she’s steady, I pull away, our foreheads resting together, our breaths mingling in the space between us. “We can’t,” I whisper, the words feeling like a curse.
“Can't or shouldn't?” I’d swear there’s still a teasing edge to her voice.
“Both,” I say. I step back, putting space between us, trying to regain control. Isla watches me, her expression a blend of frustration and understanding.
“You better get back out there,” I say into the curve of her neck, my voice barely a growl. “They're going to wonder where you've gone and come looking.”
She pulls back, her gaze locked onto mine. The shift of her delicate throat is all I need to know she’s taking my warning to heart. With a nod, she pushes away from me, her movements shaky but determined.
“Thank you,” she says over her shoulder, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her lips.
I lean against the cold metal shelving, watching her go. The urge to follow, to claim her again right there, is nearly overpowering. But instead, I force a smirk onto my face and remain where I am. My control might be slipping, but at least I’m not the one who forgot to take what I came down here for.
And I wait.
A moment later, she comes back in, her face red. “I, uh, told them I forgot what I was coming down here for.”
I nod as if that’s a plausible excuse. She snatches up the forgotten bottle of Belvedere. The smooth curve of the glass in her hand draws my attention to the curves of her body, which have engraved themselves into my mind.
This time, when she leaves, the smile I've been holding back breaks free. She’s mine. There’s no doubt about that now.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Isla
A week later…
I lean against the of the bar, my gaze drawn to Walker as he navigates through the throng of people. He exudes wealth and power, and he stands out – he’s a predator, and the people around him know it. I know the press of his body, the heat of his skin, yet even I wouldn’t say I know him. I stay at his place most nights, but I still don’t know him. I did pocket the note he’d written that first day, feeling like there was a reason to hang onto it.
His laugh, a rare sound, meets my ears, rough-edged and genuine. It tugs at something deep in my chest. I glance at him, my body stiffening. His eyes, the ones with tall walls that guard his thoughts, soften as a woman approaches him.
She's all curves and elegance, her red dress bold in our typical crowd. There’s no mistaking her confident strides in those stiletto heels.
“Walker!” Her voice is rich and warm as I try to figure out what the heck is happening.
He turns, and there's that smile again, one that never quite reaches me the same way. They embrace like old friends – or lovers - sharing a history spoken in shorthand that only they can read. My heart constricts, bile rising with jealousy as I watch them. How could he be so obvious? And right in front of me like this?
Her laughter is too happy; I find my hands clenching into fists. Cara had been a passing annoyance, a woman who tried to get Walker’s attention and got fired instead, but this woman... he knows her and she's beauty and poise. I glance down, taking in my plain Jane look, feeling small and ugly.
Is she an old friend, I wonder. I’m trying to dismiss the tightness in my throat and chest. But the jealousy tastes bitter on my tongue because it's not just friendship I see in the way he tilts his head, listening to her every word.
I’m reminded that I’m stupid. A man like Walker doesn't settle, he conquers. And what am I but a territory already surrendered without a fight?
The realization stings, a sharp slap to my already fragile pride. I should have known better than to trust he had my best interests at heart. For all his dominance and power, for all the nights I've laid in his arms, I'm still just the virgin he seduced, another woman he'll forget.
I force myself to look away, to blend back into the scenery, knowing full well that I'm no match for the dark-haired siren in red. She's the kind of woman who belongs in Walker's world – not someone like me.
“Whisky sour?” The words barely register as I reach for the bourbon. My hands shake, not from exhaustion or nerves, but from the pain rising within me.
“Thanks,” the regular says, laying a bill with too many zeros on the bar. His sympathetic eyes meet mine, hinting at an unspoken understanding. I force a smile and thank him as he vanishes off into the crowd. Even the tip is upsetting, it’s a consolation prize I didn't earn. Just like Walker.
I'd rather drown in a shot, see if the burn can chase away the image of Walker's arms around her, but the last time I tried to drink, I was left in pain. Sheesh, I still remember the sharp sting of alcohol in my eye. Even the thought has that eye tearing up. At least, that’s what I’m going to tell myself.
